Joe couldn't breathe. It wasn't asthma, the familiar tightness in his chest that knocked the wind from his chest. It was like he was drowning, his lungs filling with fire. He was choking on smoke, and he could only gasp more flames. He was bound tight, unable to move, unable to even scream.
Deep in his soul he could feel the bond between him and Gomamon, strung tight and humming like a piano wire. He cried out along the only lifeline he had.
And it snapped.
The sudden desolation was painful. If his lungs were full of fire, his soul had become a block of ice.
He looked around desperately. His glasses were strapped to his head, he could see every detail in every object down to the very molecule. Gomamon was across from him, unable to meet his eye.
"I can't, ***," the small seal said. He was holding the other half of their bond, caressing it like a precious gem. "I can't let someone like you have something this pure." He turned and began to swim away, toward a swan-shaped raft. "I'll just find a new partner. Someone who isn't defective."
***'s throat was paralyzed, he couldn't call out. His mouth opened, but flames only shot down his throat, burning him all the way to his stomach. He looked the other way, to a young blonde he knew intimately. He cried, tears drying to salt that left thick tracks down his cheeks.
"***..." the blonde said silently. He was holding something in his hands, pulsing and red. His heart. He looked in ***'s direction, but he couldn't look him in the eye, just like Gomamon. "I thought I meant something... You said you ****ed me. Or was that just a lie?"
He braved the fire, croaking out with thick clouds of black smoke, "I wasn't lying. I **** you."
"No." The blonde shook his head. He dropped his heart on the ground. It pulsed once, twice, then blackened and crumbled to dust. He began walking away, to join Gomamon. "If you did, you would never give yourself to anyone else. Now, I'll never have anyone."
*** struggled, the binds tightening around him. His glasses were melded to his flesh, replacing his eyelids. He was forced to watch as the flames took shape, and a deep rumble of laughter echoed into his brain. Sticky tar latched to his flesh, crawling all over him, coating him in pain. The salt on his cheeks continued to gather, to thicken, and it invaded his wound. Jagged grains coursed through his boiling blood, slicing him open on the inside. He opened his mouth to scream, but the tar and the salt flooded into him. He was being enveloped, coated, and the only thing he left to do was...
Joe woke with a start. He jerked himself upright, almost slamming his head into the bathtub he was curled up behind. His glasses were still gone, he'd never even tried to look for them, so his world was a dark blur. He could feel Bukamon still curled against his hip and he dragged himself away, crawling over to the sink. He had locked himself in the bathroom the night before, after he had been –
He shook his head. He turned the faucet and splashed the icy water onto his face. He didn't want to think about anything anymore. He blinked at the dripping blur reflected in the mirror, unable to make it out. He didn't know why Bukamon was still there. Why hadn't he just been left alone completely? Couldn't the small seal have left with Matt, like in his dream?
Matt...
He could still remember the first night Matt had stayed behind. He'd told Joe he was going to leave, return to the other side of the lake for TK, but he'd remained there that night, alone.
"Why did you stay?" Joe had asked.
"Because I felt like it!" Matt had snapped. Joe flinched away, for the first time, and Matt had looked away, ashamed. "I'm sorry. Look, I'll help you finish out your time here, and then we'll both go back for TK."
"Oh, Matt, thank you! I promise, with the two of us, we'll get this done in no time!"
Digitamamon had returned, shoving a futon, more like a thin, lumpy sheet, at the blonde. "Take this and follow me. I'll show you your... accommodations." He began to laugh and Matt had given Joe a sidelong look, one that the blue haired boy couldn't meet.
The two boys and their partners followed Digitamamon out the back door of the restaurant, down the hill to a small, windowless room. The door sat on rusty hinges, and the heat was already billowing through the cracks. The moon ticked overhead in the sky, like the second hand on a clock, and the egg monster sneered a disgusting "good night" and walked away laughing.
"What is his problem?" Matt had asked as Joe tugged pathetically on the door. It always stuck, especially when it was hot out, and Joe was already feeling the effects of hunger.
"He's just strict," Joe rationalized. "He wants things done the... right way."
The door finally swung open, and Matt grimaced at the sight before him. The room was tiny, dwarfed in size by the looming boiler. Heat bellowed over them, and a futon was already spread out on the floor, partially still rolled up as it was too long for the floor space. Joe swallowed hard and stumbled into the room, babbling. "Lemme just, ah, move this aside. You should have plenty of room, since you're so tiny. I mean, I'm so big I take up so much room. Well, it's not like I'm calling you short and me tall. And the Digimon, too, take up room."
Matt waved him off, forcing a laugh. "Don't freak out so much, Joe. It'll be fine. Just a few nights, remember?"
Joe had blushed, smiling down at Gomamon who was laughing at him. Matt had moved in, him and Gabumon spreading out the futon on the other side of the room. Joe rearranged his side of the room, setting his glasses aside and curling up on the mat. It was hot enough in there, that neither boy needed sheets and, in fact, the Digimon were curled up to only just barely touch their Tamers. Joe could hear Matt settling in with a soul-deep sigh, setting his harmonica aside. The older boy lay on his side, biting his lip and trying not to make too much noise, not that it mattered with the grumbling of the boiler filling their senses.
Joe's watch ticked on, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, and he could hear the blonde's even breath as he managed to fall asleep quickly. Though just as exhausted, maybe even more so, sleep always seemed to allude him. He would stay up late each night, dreading what the next day would bring. Both Digimon were sleeping, Gomamon snoring away at his toes, and Joe could feel his legs cramping, but he didn't want to move and wake the poor younger boy.
"Nng... Sto..."
Who seemed to be having a nightmare.
Joe debated reaching across the small room to wake the boy. Matt needed his rest, but he knew from experience how tiring bad dreams could be. Even Gabumon seemed to be sharing the fitful night, shifting under his pelt.
Just as he was convincing himself to roll over and check the other boy, Matt sat up with a choking gasp. Joe immediately flew over, reaching out to rub Matt's back soothingly, crooning gently. The boy was coughing, gagging on nothing, and tears were spilling over his cheeks. Joe wasn't sure how much Matt would appreciate it, but he pulled him into a calming hug. There was a moment of resistance before the blonde collapsed, crying softly.
They stayed like that for a while, Joe's shirt getting soaked through and Matt refusing to look up even long after he'd quieted down. Joe was rocking Matt, a comforting and gently reassuring movement, and with such a long silence, he was sure the boy had fallen back asleep until he spoke, just barely over a whisper.
"Hey, Joe...?"
"Yeah?"
"... I'm sorry."
Joe gave a simple smile, patting down that unruly mop of blonde hair. "There's nothing to be sorry about." He swallowed, wondering if his next question would be appropriate. "Wanna talk about it?"
Matt stiffened and Joe knew he had screwed up. "Not really... But I guess I owe you..."
"You don't owe me anything," Joe began, but Matt spoke over him in a hushed whisper, so low he was almost completely drowned out by the boiler.
"It's the same nightmare I've had since I can remember." His voice was tired. He was still exhausted and his mind couldn't quite call forth the right words. "It's my mom. She's sick in the head."
"Oh, hey, my mom's sick too!" Joe immediately bit his lip. That was obviously the wrong thing to say. But Matt just snorted in his arms. Taking that as a good sign, Joe babble on again. "She's got bipolar. Bipolar I, I think. The one where she doesn't have to sleep a lot and runs around all crazy before crashing. She doesn't take her pills all the time." He looked at Matt, huddled into him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to act like my mom's sicker than yours. What does she have?"
"Tumors."
"Oh." Joe bit his lip before he could start explaining how tumors formed. "Where?"
"In her brain. It makes her... Made her, when I was living with her... T-touch me." Matt buried his face in Joe's chest, reddening with guilt and shame.
Joe wanted to show Matt that it was ok, that he wasn't going to judge, so he opened his mouth without thinking and told him, "That's a bad thing for her to do."
Matt pulled away completely. He tucked his head between his knees and started shaking. Joe felt his heart drop in his chest, thinking he'd broken the frail boy before he heard it.
Matt was laughing. At him.
"You fucking think so?" It was a genuine laugh, from deep in the soul. The only way Joe could describe it was: goobery. Joe couldn't help himself. He snickered into the back of his hand and Matt looked up with a grateful smile. His eyes were red from tears, but he looked at peace."I never told anyone. I didn't know what their reactions would be. I think this is the best way it could have gone."
Joe reached out, lamely placing his hand on Matt's shoulder. Blue eyes looked to the offending appendage and Joe jerked away. "You, uh, probably don't want to be touched right now, huh?"
"No, I..." Matt blushed, a gentle tinge stinging his already ruddy face. "You don't scare me like every one else. I don't think I'd mind if... if someone like you touched me." Joe blinked and Matt buried his face into his knees again.
"What do you mea- oh." Joe scratched his nose as his face burned. The boiler was suddenly very cold in comparison to his cheeks.
"Just forget I said anything," Matt suddenly hissed. He flung himself back onto his futon, almost kicking Gabumon. "What you must think of me... A freak who got raped by his mother, trying to cling to anyone who won't turn away." He buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you gay."
"Well, I mean, it's not like I'm not," Joe replied, absently. He didn't even realize what he'd admitted, more concerned with making sure the blonde didn't hate himself. And once his own words met his ears, he began a fresh torrent, "Uh, well, I am, you know. Well, you wouldn't know because I never told anyone. It's not like I never meant to, it just never came up, is all. Everyone was always so preoccupied with everything else, that it didn't... seem to matter." He swallowed hard, reaching out to gently place his fingertips on Matt's arm. "What about you? Are you...?"
"I'm just tired of being alone. Of being closed off from everyone." His breath caught as Joe moved closer, his touch leaving icy trails on his skin. "I think I need this..."
"Just tell me when to stop, and I will," Joe had breathed.
That first night, they had touched, they had explored. Every little gasp and every tiny whimper made Joe pull back like from a hot iron. He'd worried the whole time about making sure Matt felt safe and secure, and the next morning they were tired. But Matt was stable, and love had begun to blossom.
Only to wither away and die.